What Skiing Taught Me About Leading With Your Whole Heart
I learned to ski in 2002.
My then-fiancé’s family were serious skiers — not “Midwestern hill” skiers, but real-mountain Utah skiers. Growing up in Iowa, my entire frame of reference was Afton Alps, outside Minneapolis, which felt like a major adventure at the time. I was confident enough out there — laughing with high school friends as we careened down the hillside, often ending up riding the tails of our skis straight into a culvert or ditch.
Utah was a different universe.
Being a ski family, they wanted to make sure I learned properly. My father-in-law and husband had heliskied, done professional clinics in Chamonix, and had decades of mountain experience between them. They set me up with professional instructors at Snowbird — two or three sessions during each week-long trip. I learned a lot. I also collected bruises, bumps, and crashes that left me stiff and black and blue for days.
As the years went on, I got better. But there was still something I struggled with: I kept wanting to look down. I needed to see the snow directly under my skis — as if visual confirmation of the surface beneath me would reassure me that I was doing the right thing. The problem, of course, is that if you’re looking down, your posture is off and you’re not paying attention to what actually matters. The next turn.
My instructors would tell me: lead with your heart. Lean forward. Commit.
I understood it as a physical cue. Lean into it. Don’t sit back.
I had no idea how much deeper that instruction would eventually go.
Seven Years Away
After I started my microschool in 2017, the family ski trips slowed down for me. I simply couldn’t take that week off every year. And honestly? I found a secret pleasure in the quiet of an empty house — just me and my animals while everyone else was out having adventures in the mountains.
So I stayed home. For just about seven years.
A lot happened in those seven years. I found the Good Knight Network. I began the Wisdom Studies. I spent 54 months working through ancient teachings under Sophia West that were slowly, quietly, thoroughly changing the way I moved through the world. I developed my intuition. I learned to trust the quiet voice that speaks in moments of uncertainty. I strengthened what I call my “observer perspective” — the ability to step back from reactivity, to respond to life rather than just react to it.
I didn’t know any of this would matter on a mountain.
The Last Big Family Trip
Our daughter graduates next year. She’s heading to college, and we knew that a random week off in February wasn’t going to be a realistic option much longer. So we made it a priority: one final big family trip to Snowbird while we still could.
I didn’t fully anticipate what was waiting for me on those slopes.
From the very first run, something was different. I was aware of my body in a way I hadn’t been before — present in my muscles, my edges, my breath. More than that, I trusted myself. Not in a reckless way, but in the way you trust something that has been tested and proven reliable over years of quiet, consistent practice.
The mountain became a map of choices, and I found I could read it. Do you want a little adventure? Steer toward those moguls. Need some calm? Stick to the groomed side of the trail. You’re not just going down — you’re choosing your path, picking your potentials, steering toward what you want to manifest in each turn. It’s a perfect metaphor for how I try to live now.
And I wasn’t looking down anymore.
The Battalion
Yesterday, at the top of a run, I did something I’ve learned to do whenever I need to feel grounded and protected: I activated my battalion of angels.
For those who are new to this idea — it feels a bit like ‘mystical theater’. You could call it that– but for me, it’s a practice. A way of intentionally aligning with the frequencies of protection, love, healing, and clarity before stepping into something that requires your full presence.
I called in Archangel Michael to the East — to protect and guard my back. (I have been skied into before, and the anxiety of that possibility used to loop in my head on busy runs. Having Michael at my back meant I could let that worry go completely.) To the South, Archangel Uriel, who brings love and light into any situation. I’ve had some of the most unexpectedly profound conversations of my life on chairlifts with complete strangers this week (more about this later). To the West, Archangel Raphael — the archangel of healing and health — exactly right for a week of moving our bodies, exercising, and breathing in cold mountain air. And to the North, Archangel Gabriel, who carries the energy of clarity of message and communication.
I also called in my personal angels, and — as I’ve learned to do — invited any interested party here for the highest good to join me on the run.
Then I pointed my skis downhill.
I literally felt like I had wings. Swooping back and forth in long, beautiful S-curves, it felt less like skiing and more like flying. My heart was forward — not just physically, but emotionally and spiritually. Leading with my whole heart. That’s what the instruction always meant. I just couldn’t receive the fullness of it until I’d done the work to understand what my whole heart actually contained.
A Chairlift and a Stranger
On one of the lifts, I rode up with a man I’d never met. We talked about our kids, about my microschool years, about his unconventional life — four days of work, three days of skiing, completely on his own terms. We talked about how you cannot judge anyone by what they present on the surface. There’s always a deeper story. And while we don’t have to agree with everyone, or even understand every choice they make, when we can hold space for the idea that they’re simply trying to find their own version of health and happiness and love — it frees us. It frees them in our perception.
I’ve had that conversation in some form on every chairlift this week. Different strangers, same essential truth. These encounters have done something to reinforce my view of humanity — not naively, but genuinely. People are just doing their best.
My Daughter, at Two Years Old, on Skis
I was deeply emotional this week in ways I hadn’t fully expected.
Every time I saw a small child on the slopes with their parents — bundled up, snowplow-ing down the gentlest of hills, laughing — I was immediately transported back. My daughter on skis for the first time at two years old. Coaxing her down “one more run” with the promise of peanut butter M&Ms. The day she came flying out of the ski school door, triumphant, to tell us she’d skied all the way down from the tram — from the very top of the mountain, 11,000 feet — for the first time, all by herself.
And then skiing with her. Watching her become someone who doesn’t need coaxing anymore.
My heart was so full it was almost hard to contain. I was proud of her. Proud of myself. Proud of the life we’d been able to build because of the blessings we’ve received and the priorities we’ve chosen.
What I Won’t Tell My Younger Self
People sometimes ask: if you could go back and tell the earlier version of yourself something — the one white-knuckling down a Utah mountain, feeling out of control, looking down at her feet — what would you say?
Honestly? I don’t think I’d tell her anything.
The platitudes — it gets better, it will be beautiful, just trust yourself — they don’t mean anything until you feel them. And it was the whole journey that brought me to this moment: the years of study with Sophia West, the physical journey of aging into my own body, the emotional journey of running a business, building a school, raising children, learning to fail and recover and try again. All of it.
I’ve come to understand something about why God — or Source, or the Universe, whatever name resonates with you — doesn’t always answer us the way we think we want to be answered. It’s kind of the point to do it ourselves. The experiences, the struggles, the gradual accumulation of trust in your own knowing — those aren’t obstacles to the destination. They are the destination.
You can’t shortcut that into a weekend workshop or a single chairlift conversation. You have to live it.
What “Activating Angels” Actually Does
For those who are curious but skeptical about the angel piece — I want to be clear about what it actually does for me, practically. It’s not about believing in a specific theology. Some people call it intuition. Some call it prayer. Some call it tapping into higher frequencies. The language doesn’t matter nearly as much as the function.
What it does is quiet the anxious loop. When I stood at the top of that run and called in Michael to guard my back, my heartbeat calmed. The worry that had been circling in my mind — what if someone hits me, what if I fall, what if I’m not good enough for this mountain — simply stopped circling. I breathed more easily. My internal soundtrack shifted back to its natural state (for me, mostly song lyrics providing a constant personal soundtrack to life).
I’ve learned to trust the quiet voice that gives helpful, loving instructions when I ask for them. That voice never flatters me falsely. It never asks me to do something harmful. It honors my own free will. And when it says you’re safe — I don’t have to overthink it. I just know.
That knowing is what I’m skiing on now.
An Invitation
If you’ve read this far, something in these words probably resonated. Maybe you know what it feels like to look down — at your feet, at your fears, at the worst-case scenario directly beneath you — instead of ahead at the beautiful run unfolding before you.
The Wisdom Studies didn’t give me courage. They gave me something better: a foundation. A trust in my own inner compass that came from 54 months of slow, sequential, intentional practice.
I’m leading the next cohort. If you’re ready to stop looking down and start leading with your whole heart — I’d be honored to walk alongside you.
For those local to Stillwater, MN: we offer a bonus gathering hour before each class at Awakening Wisdom School, where you can walk our meditative medicine wheel labyrinth, soak in the hot tub, canoe the pond, or simply forest bathe on our beautiful grounds. Reiki and healing exchanges, community, connection — at no additional cost.
The mountain is waiting.
—
Amy Marotz, M.Ed., is Vice President of the Good Knight Network and Director of Awakening Wisdom School in Stillwater, Minnesota. She has been studying the Ancient Wisdom lessons under Sophia West since 2018 and now guides others on their spiritual journeys. Amy is a Reiki Master, world traveler, homeschool and microschool advocate, and passionate believer in experiential learning that honors the whole person.
Ready to learn more about the Wisdom Studies? Visit goodknight.org or reach out at thegoodknightnetwork@gmail.com.
